( open )

[imaginate]

Characters: Kyle & you unfortunate souls.
Date: During the mis-spell event.
Location: Everywhere.
Situation: Kyle is seven and the most powerful weapon in the universe still answers to him. Watch out, world.
Warnings/Rating: None that I can think of.
Notes: [Action] or prose all good. If the starters don't work, feel free to tag with your own.

Comments

EARTH SECTOR;

[imaginate]

As a child, his restless energy is even more pronounced. Logically, the part of him that's grown-up (boh-ring!) says they have to calm down and help Zatanna fix this, but the majority of him is now an unsupervised seven-year-old, and really can't be bothered. He hasn't had fun in ages, and he's going to take the opportunity to cut completely loose, have some no-holds-barred fun.

The first thing he does is attempt to reach his paints, and sulks when he can't. Damian gets them down for him, but it's not the same as doing it himself, so when he finally escapes supervision, he takes out some of his supplies from the clinic's art room, and starts to work industriously on the buildings in the Earth Sector.

It's technically graffiti, but nobody can reprimand a kid, right? Especially not one with a power ring.

[wingedwarrior]

[Not reprimand a kid with a power ring? Are you seriously thinking Shayera is going to let him get away with trashing her entire house? There was paint everywhere, and Kyle is in serious trouble when she gets her hands on him. Or her mace. Whichever is most effective against tiny, hyperactive, power ring-bearing brats.

It's basically a game of "follow the paint trail" until you find said child. And it takes a decent amount of willpower not to throw her mace at him on instinct. So instead, there's one very loud, very angry cry through the street.] Kyle, put that paint down!

[imaginate]

[Wow, she's faster than expected. Abandon ship!]

Catch me first!

[He winks at her and speeds away.]

[wingedwarrior]

Oh, when I get my hands on you. [She flies after him, flapping her wings harder to give her that extra much needed boost. But there's one other thing she can try out here.] If you don't get back here, your paints at my house are going in the garbage!

[starcharter]

As a responsible adult, Chekov should probably say something. Instead he (now she) stands back a few feet from one of the buildings Kyle is working on, appraising his work.

"I think perhaps it could use more green."

[imaginate]

He stops, covered in paint, and grins up the stranger, not recognising her. 'I'm almost out of green, that's why I'm using blue.'

[starcharter]

That was a first. Then again, Kyle is only the second person he's spoken to today. Maybe he wasn't as recognizable as he thought.

"Ah, my favorite color. But how about yellow? Or gold?"

[parallels]

Clara is watching Kyle as he partakes in his self-proposed shenanigans. She wants to make sure no one yells at him for painting their house and that he doesn't go too far with the whole act. But she's pleased to see him smiling and acting carefree. God knows, if anyone deserves to be happy and carefree it's Kyle.

She paints with him. Mostly abstract shapes that are borne from scenes in the depths of her memories. Of when she was not Clara Oswald but other girls across space and time.

[imaginate]

It's relaxing. Clara doesn't talk much and Kyle always focuses more on the piece, so he just hands her the different brushes she needs, and moves the stool around as the images take form. It's been a long time since he did paint on walls, and Shayera was probably going to kill him when she found out what happened to her house.

He grins at the thought and then squints at Clara's project.

'Whassat?'

[parallels]

"I don't know," she replies as she drags her brush down to create a long flowing line down the side of the building. She was no artist. Not really. She'd had a painting phase when she was younger and spent days going at a canvas not knowing what exactly she was doing but feeling relief from her ability to create something, anything.

So that's what she has now. Abstract shapes and lines that somehow represent what she feels but mean nothing at all. It's long and flows and is completely nothing.

"It's just... something I felt like making."

[saved7]

"What are you doing?"

Aside from being eight years old, Miria hasn't had any other changes, except that eight year old Miria looks very different from adult Miria. Her eyes are the same hazel they were when he first met her, but her hair is also chestnut brown, and her skin is a shade or two darker.

She's standing behind him, arms folded in front of her and head tilted to one side as she watches him paint, with an expression of demanding curiosity.

[imaginate]

So many people have stared or asked him what he was up to while painting (when it's quite obvious), that he'd have ignored the question, if not for the tone of voice. Kyle turns, and looks at Miria, not recognising her at all. She seems familiar, but a lot of people have been changed.

'Painting,' he ventures, cautiously. 'Wanna join me?'

[saved7]

Her first instinct is to say no, she's got better, more important things to worry about than painting. Her mouth even forms the beginning of the 'n' sound, before she stops herself.

Actually, painting sounds fun. But she still has that one thing she's worried about.

"Yes," she says finally. "But in a while. I need you, assuming your ring still works?"

[unetrustworthy]

Some time after Damian brought her clothes, Midii dared to venture out of her room. It was her insatiable curiosity that finally got the better of her; things were happening all around the Turtle that she had never heard of before, let alone seen.

Though, despite everything the Network had already hinted towards, one thing she was not expecting was for the Earth Sector to suddenly look so...colorful.

"Is that necessary?"

[imaginate]

Without turning around, he dips the brush in more red. He's been painting all morning and the entire sector looks bright, people are stopping to look at all the colour.

Good.

'Sure it is!'

[shorttempered]

[Mark had been considering himself lucky that he hadn't been hit by the spell yet... at least until he opened his window and saw a little tyke with a power ring drawing on his suite.]

What, did you run out of paper?

[imaginate]

[Kyle looks up at him, not recognising Mark. He squints, attempting to place the face and voice.]

Paper's for boring people.

FIRE SECTOR;

[imaginate]

By late afternoon, the spell hasn't worn off and he gets used to being in a smaller, flimsier physical body. It's uncomfortable but not particularly inconvenient: it would have been, but he discovered his ring was still working fine. The bottom line is good things like this never really do last, so he simply.. accepts he might be stuck like this a while and decides not to do everything at once.

This decision holds for about ten seconds.

So, once he's done painting, he doesn't bother washing his hands, and instead takes to the air, hurtling around at breakneck speeds, laughing. Sometimes, he floats in the air, lounging on his back, changing costumes rapidly, before settling on a variation of Guy's jacket (which is awesome, super awesome, and other variations of "cool"). He's not particularly concerned who he might ram into, accidentally get into a race with, or otherwise drive up the wall (sometimes literally).

[dunhaming]

[ Olivia is wandering around her sector, getting a feel for her new body. It's older she must be close to 50 or something, but at least it's in good shape and she can do pretty much all the same things she would expect she needs to do. Plus, she has aged very, very well. She's pretty sure there aren't many people this old who look as gorgeous as she does.

Luckily she sees... whoever that is a little ways off and decides to put the new-old model to the test. She lines up her body with the incoming object and take the impact well enough to wrap her hands around the tiny shoulders, but there's absolutely no malice in her voice. ]

Woah there, watch yourself.

[imaginate]

[Going as fast as he is, and as resilient as his body is, strengthened by the ring, he doesn't quite see her until it's too late, and rams into her at full tilt. They fall over and he pushes his hair out of his face.]

I'm fine! You're the crazy one, standing there like that!

[animosus]

Hal didn't really have memories per se of the time he looked like this, so it took him a while to figure it out. His clothes were suddenly not his clothes and it wasn't until he looked into a mirror that things slotted into place.

Parallax.

Oddly enough he didn't feel possessed. As far as he could tell he was aware of everything which shouldn't of been happening. Still this wasn't a good sign.

So there's 'Parallax' gawking at himself in the middle of the street when he sees a streak of green overhead. Hal immediately starts to follow, perhaps he'd know what's going on.

"Kyle!"

[imaginate]

Zooming around is a lot of fun. Kyle hasn't rammed into anything quite yet besides one or two people, which is considerably better than his first few actual attempts to fly using the ring. He'd flown right into Sonar, once. It had been embarrassing.

Someone following him catches his attention right away (well, after he's circled a few blocks and noticed someone keeping up). Unlike Hal, Kyle very distinctly remembers Parallax.

Parallax who also happens to be a-turtle, inside the battery. Who wasn't supposed to escape.

There's only one conclusion he can draw from this - and it results in a small green missile headed Hal's way, yelling, 'You're not gonna get away with this, buttface!'

[demon_brat]

Damian shows up really, really quickly. He might have taken rooftop shortcuts, with a break only to get ice cream... and a few other, better food choices.

His mouth, when he knocks (on the window, naturally) is a flat line, with all the changes that are happening - but it softens when he sees the boy.

"Rayner."

[imaginate]

Kyle's sitting on a stool that's too high for him, and he jumps down, landing clumsily, and scurries over to open the window, eyes as round as circles.

'You're huge. And you could use the door now I don't think you even fit through the window.'

[demon_brat]

"Of course I will fit. My body is at least in decent shape, for its awkward... for its size that I am unused to."

A lot of people are smaller, it seems. That... means that his attention gets to be split among even more people. But he can handle that.